Night After
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: In which Paul and Steph discuss his quad injury the night after surgery as well as the fact that she cried over him. In quite a lot of detail. On both topics. - One-shot.


"So you watched it?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Whole thing?"

"Whole thing."

"Damn." Paul opened his mouth as Steph held a fork in front of it. "That's hardcore."

"I wanted to be sure that nothing happened to you," she said as he closed his mouth around the piece of the fish she was feeding him.

At the moment, they were in the hotel that Paul was booked in for the time being (and though they didn't know it at that exact moment, the next few months as he went through rehab for his quad), him just finishing his surgery up that day. His parents had been around, before, but it was late then and they'd gone off to their own room and it was just him and Steph.

She'd tried to bribe him into feeling better by offering to bring him anything he wanted for dinner, whatever fattening, gross, disgustingly sweet or calorie ridden thing that he wanted, but he only told her he wanted some fish.

Fried, at least. With a baked potato, but that was turning out to be more for her as they were sharing the takeout.

"Why?" he asked after he'd swallowed. She was sitting with him, on the bed, but was facing him as he laid with both legs stretched out and she sat with hers crossed. "You gonna jump in there, scrub up, and take over if something had?"

"No, but I'd wanna see it, if something did."

"How would you know though?" he kept up as she fed herself a bit of the fish then, just staring at him. "Huh? If something went wrong?"

"Obviously," she said with her mouth full because she rarely felt the need to be overly ladylike in front of the man (he was nothing close to gentlemanly in return for the most part), "the doctors would have started, like, flailing and running around and your little machine that beeps would flat line."

Considering this, Paul opened his mouth once more, grinning when Steph fed him. After chewing and swallowing, he agreed with, "Obviously."

"Mmmm." Stephanie reached then, over to the nightstand, to grab her drink. Taking a noisy sip through the straw, she said right after, "There's no other way for that to play out, really."

"I concur," Paul told her, arms folded across his chest as he stared at her. "One question though."

"What's that?"

"Even if you saw them panicking," he began, "I ask again, what could you possibly have done?"

"Just panicked too."

Paul made a face. "That's it?"

"Did you want me to do what you said then? Rush in there and make things worse?"

"Well, if I'm slipping away anyways, you might as well make it as dramatic as possible."

"I'm not big on drama."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm starting to doubt whether or not you're really a McMahon or not. And we all know that's the only reason I'm even in this relationship."

She shoved the fish into his mouth then. As he choked a bit, not having expected this, she said in a sweet tone dripping with sarcasm, "I just love the way you let me feed you."

Swallowing, he said, "Soak it in, princess, because it won't be happening again."

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"I thought it could become our thing."

"Nope." Paul shook his head. "It's just to make you feel better."

"Me? Why do I need to feel better?" She handed the cup to him and let him take a drink of his own. "You're the one that… It was you that had surgery. Not me."

Actually popping open the lid, Paul tipped the back the cup to get some ice before setting the cup once more on the nightstand. Around the frozen cube that he was rolling around on his tongue, he told his girlfriend, "Mom told me you were crying."

She paused then, blushing a bit, before saying, "I didn't cry."

"Steph."

"I just got tearful."

"You cry about everything."

"I do not."

"You cried the night it happened."

"I was emotional."

"Right. And cried because of it."

"If you're gonna be a jerk-"

"I'm not." And he wasn't. His smile was soft then, more true, as he said, "I think it's cute."

Her blush was deeper then, but she still managed to say, "I'm glad that I could make you feel better then, on such a..."

"Shitty day?" He shrugged. "It wasn't too bad."

"You had surgery, Paul."

"Out patient procedure."

"Paul."

"It wasn't that bad." Tilting his head back a bit, he crunched the ice finally before swallowing it. "Honest. Could be worse places to be stuck than Alabama."

"You would literally say that no matter where we were, wouldn't you?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny."

Shifting then, she fed him a bit of the potato as she said, "You can be real with me, Paul."

"Always," he said after swallowing.

"But you're not right now. And haven't been this whole time."

"What are you going on about? Huh?" She was sitting on the side of his good leg, so he only moved it to push against her a bit. "How am I being fake?"

"By not being..."

"What? Steph? Upset? What good would that do me?"

"None, but-"

"It's shit, yeah, that this happened. I'm not happy about it. At all. But I'm not going to bitch for the next however many months." He stared her straight in the eyes then too as he said, "I have to focus everything I have into coming back."

 _If_ he came back.

But Steph didn't say this and he didn't like to think about it so, for a bit, they fell into silence.

After finishing off their meal, Steph shoved up to go disappear into the bathroom for a bit and Paul spent some time watching sports recaps on the television.

"As the injured party here," he grumbled when, after her shower, his girlfriend came to fall into bed in her undergarments only, and take the remote from him, "I should get to watch whatever I want."

"You are." Steph laid with her back to him, so that she could watch the stupid chick comedy she put it on. "Me."

Paul had his head turned to the side and gave her a glance. "Rerun."

"But it's your favorite show."

"Still a rerun." Still, he lifted his hand up before letting it fall on her side, resting it there. "Not big on the censoring though."

"It's too cold to sleep naked."

"It's almost summer. It practically is summer. And what are your bra and panties covering up that's that important?"

"Uh, gee, only the most important things."

"That are more susceptible to the cold?"

"I'm actually thinking about putting one of your big t-shirts on, if you wanna know the truth."

"I didn't."

She hummed as he squeezed her side a bit with his big hands. "Tell me if you need something, okay? Even if I fall asleep."

"Fall asleep?" Paul grumbled. "You changed the channel to fall asleep?"

"I changed the channel because you love me and you're going to let me."

"How do you figure?"

"I cried over you, Paul."

His grip slackened, but his hand stayed resting against her flesh. She was joking then, he knew, but his tone was much more serious as he whispered, "Yeah. I know."

Eventually Steph did fall asleep and he was able to snag the remote back, but Paul only shut off the television then and, for awhile, he laid in darkened silence beside her, stroking randomly at her side, but mostly just resting.

With the surgery done, a lot had begun to set in for the man. After his injury, a lot had been panicked and frenzied. They had to get his x-rays done and then he got his leg cast and then, of course, the checkup by the doctor followed by the surgery the next day. Not a lot of downtime between then. Mostly just pain, pain pills, Steph and his family, and sleep.

Not much of the last one, but enough.

Lying there then though, none came to him. Paul wondered if when you were under anesthesia, your brain went into the sleep function. What was that called? REM? Or something? Did your brain go into that then? He was under for a bit; would he be able to sleep at all that night?

Just thinking about sleep was able to distract him for a bit longer, from coming to terms with what was becoming increasingly more real as time went on.

He wasn't going to get back in the ring.

He just wasn't.

Steph hadn't said it. Vince hadn't said it. His father didn't say it. His friends didn't say it. The other wrestlers hadn't said it, but his mother?

"As bad as this all is, it's probably about time that something like this happened to you," she told him after the surgery, when they were in the only ones in his room. Steph was in the bathroom, his father was off, calling his sister to tell her that things had gone well, and Paul was just coming out of the anesthesia. "Something real. Something more serious. Something to make you think about if you really still want to be in this line of work."

He was still kind of out of it and only managed to get out, "I like my work."

"I know you do." His mother was seated by his cot and only smiled at him a bit. "But you've done it for long enough, don't you think?"

No. But he didn't say that. Just laid there.

It gave her a chance to add the next part in.

"Then again," she whispered, sounding quite morose for someone that would be getting her way, "perhaps you won't get the chance to."

And he wouldn't. Lying there, hand still resting against Steph's side, that's all Paul could think. He'd talked a good game, in front of the others, about how he was coming back. Told Vince, when he spoke with him on the phone, that he'd heard everything about the recovery process and knew that he'd be back soon. Few months. Less than a year. Just had too get the brace off in four months and then a bit of rehab and bam!

He'd be right back in the ring.

But...in the dark...with the surgery finally completed...and thinking about all that he was going to have to go through to get back there…

He wasn't sure what he'd be, without wrestling. He'd made a nice amount of money off it, fine, in some regards. A lot of which was being wasted on travel and expenses, so cut those and he'd still have some to fall back on.

Gyms. He could run gyms. Or be a trainer. Go back to body building.

See? Plenty of things.

Plenty.

He just…

"Mmmm," Steph groaned when he gripped her side a bit too hard while he was lost in thought. Shifting around, she rolled over when he released her side, blinking sleepily up at the man. "What happened to my show?"

Not even caring if what he was saying was true or not, Paul only told her, "It went off."

"Oh."

"Yeah." He turned his head to the side, staring as she snuggled up closer to him. "Go back to sleep, Steph. I shouldn't have waken you. I'm sorry."

"Did you do that?"

"Mmmhmm."

"Good." She was slipping out of bed then. "I have to pee."

That brought him out of his sour mood, if only a bit. Letting out a slight laugh, he said, "I really think we're becoming too close."

"What? Do you like to pretend that I don't pee?"

"I don't think about it much, no. No really my fetish."

"Ew. Is that even a thing?"

"You're so cute," he complimented as Steph made a face over her shoulder at him before heading off into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

They were still, thankfully, not close enough that that went away.

Steph had stocked up the mini-fridge in his hotel room for him, full of waters and diet sodas and stuff, so she stopped off to grab a can for herself when she came back.

"I am cold," she told him as she fell back into the bed, grinning at him. "Just so you know."

"Get under the covers."

"You're lying on them."

"Not your half."

"I wanna put on one of your shirts."

"Maybe I don't want you to put on one of my shirts."

"Maybe I don't care."

"Maybe I do."

"Maybe I'm planning on sneaking out of here with it when I leave so I can steal it from you in retaliation."

"Maybe I don't believe that's the reason why."

"Maybe it's not."

And he wouldn't grin at her, as she took a sip from her drink, but around the can he could most definitely see her sporting one.

Still, Paul took in a deep breath before saying, "Fine. If you're gonna be so annoying about it-"

"I'm not being annoying about anything," she said, though she was popping up to get one from his bag.

"You definitely are."

"Am not."

"Don't take any of my good shirts," was his one warning. "That I wear all the time."

"What difference does it make?" Steph asked offhandedly. "It's not like you're going to be doing much these next few… Oh, Paul, I didn't mean-"

"Take that one," he said, nodding at one of the shirts she'd pulled out before catching her words, getting them from his unzipped duffle bag. It was the right one he was gesturing too, she could tell, as he said, "I mean, wear whatever you want tonight, but when you go… You should take that one."

"Why?" She moved to slip it on then regardless as he only laid there, watching, trying hard to keep her from going back to her transgression. "You like this shirt."

"I like it a lot." It had a really sick skull design on it that annoyed the hell out of Steph when he'd wear it to dinners with her family (so he did it constantly).

"Then don't you want it to stay here with you?" She came to stretch out on the bed once more, taking another sip from her drink while she was at it. "Paul?"

Grunt. Folding his arms over his chest, he said, "Maybe if you wear it enough, you'll start to smell like me, and other guys will remember that you're taken and leave you the fuck alone."

"...For one, I'm gonna wash it, you know; your...scent won't linger that long. And for two, you're not a dog; you don't get to mark me."

Not glancing over at her, he said, "In response to the first, sniff it. That's some heavy cologne intertwined in there, eh? Not getting rid of that easily. And to the second, your my girlfriend. If I wanna mark you, I can mark you."

Setting her drink on the bedside table, Steph cuddled back to his side as she said, "Or you could try trusting that I won't sleep around on you while you're here."

Paul nodded. "Or that."

"I'd really prefer that one. So we could at least have some symbolism of trust going."

"Or discuss opening up the boundaries of our relationship a bit and-"

"Paul."

"I'm joking." He turned his heavy gaze on her then. "I'm far too possessive to ever be up for some sort of open relationship thing."

"I'm sure."

"I'd, like, never give you a chance to be with another guy," he went on for some reason. The topic was jokey and conversational, but Steph could tell by his tone that he was speaking more to save them from silence (though she didn't realize why, it was because he was fearful that a lull would allow her to bring up his injury and he did _not_ want to discuss that). "I'd just follow you around all the time so you couldn't pick one up."

"You'd stalk me?"

"Lovingly." He nodded. "But yes."

"Then you wouldn't get a chance to sleep with other women too," she pointed out. "You'd never have the time, devoting all of yours to keeping me honest."

"Keeping you honest," he mumbled with a shake of his head. "You're so old."

"You're older than me."

"Mentally," was his clarification and, with a nod, Steph was inclined to agree.

But it was quiet, then, as neither knew where to go from there. And, much to his dismay, slowly Steph's mind was able to figure a way back to where he feared it was headed.

"About before," she whispered as she laid there, on her side next to him, one hand resting on his chest. "I didn't mean-"

"Steph, I don't want to talk about-"

"You're not going to just, like, be stuck up in this place all day," she told him with a nod of certainty. "People will come see you. And you'll have doctor's appointments and you can go out to eat and… And I'll come as often as I can. I-"

"Steph, I don't need you to-"

"I want to. I care about you." One of her fingers tapped at his chest then. "Work will hardly even be fun without you."

"That's why it's called work," he told her after a breath. "Babe."

"And that's why the time I'm not spending doing it is free time, which is supposed to be fun. And you're the only person I want to have fun with." Her finger pressed into his flesh that time. "Babe."

Turning his head to the side, he said simply, "But I have it on good authority, Mrs. Helmsley, that you're not above just jumping in bed with the best wrestler in the arena. And with me gone-"

"Not to burst your bubble, Hunter, but you were hardly the best." She was falling then, into her pillow, though her eyes stayed on his. "That's why you had to marry up."

"Is that what happened?"

"That's what happened."

"Mmmm." Reaching a hand out, he rested it on her head as he said, "Don't think about me much, huh? While I'm gone? Both of us shouldn't have to be miserable."

"You won't be miserable. I won't let you."

"You just worry about you. It'll be fun, I bet, not dating someone on the roster again."

"Why would you bet that?" Steph pushed the hand off her head with a frown. "Now I'll just be back to being Vince's daughter."

"As oppose to being Hunter's girlfriend?"

"Surely you see why one is better than the other."

"Not for me it wasn't."

"I think that you more than reaped the benefits though," she said, giving him a look in the darkness. "Don't you?"

Paul hummed a bit before agreeing, "More than."

Again they found silence and, for a minute, he thought that they were going to drift off. Or she was, at least, as he still hadn't found any weariness, but that was what he wanted. Just some peace.

Then, even though she'd shifted to lying on her stomach, Steph only turned her head to the side to stare at him as she said, "I'm gonna visit you so much that you'll grow tired of me."

"Oh, yeah?" he asked through a fake yawn, hoping she'd catch on.

She replied through her own, very real, yawn, "Yeah."

"How's Daddy Vince gonna feel about that?"

"Uh, probably good, actually," she told him with a bemused smile. "Like I'd keep you from suing him or something."

"Sue him, huh? Is that an option?"

"Not if you want a job back, no." In honesty, Steph told him, "Your contract absolves us of medical injuries, barring negligence. And I'm really not sure how we could have been negligent in this. At all. Other than maybe not forcing you to stop the match, but that was your idiotic call, so… But you know Daddy, recently; he just feels like it's us versus the world. Or him, rather."

"Well," he said with a nod, "everyone does keep coming up with reasons to nail his ass to the wall."

"To what now?"

"To, you know, give it to him."

"Are you making passes at Vince? Or-"

"They're expressions!"

"Of what exactly?"

"Just that people have taken quite a liking-"

"To nailing my father's ass and really giving it to him-"

"-suing the man. Damn, Steph."

Pleased with herself, she only grinned before saying, "Well, I was just checking was all."

"Uh-huh."

"It will probably get on his nerves eventually though," she offered with a slight shrug. "He always gets a bit peeved when I get overly serious about a guy."

"You're overly serious about me?"

"I almost got disowned for you," she told him with an accompanying look. "And my ass kicked by your girlfriend. Not to mention I watched your freaking knee get cut opened-"

"Yeah, I know. That's my favorite now, I think."

"Is it?"

Nodding, he said, "Definitely. Fuckin' hot."

"Me watching your surgery-"

"You cried over me." And that time when he said it, the man's tone made it sound...cool. Gnarly. Not foolishly emotional or obsessive girlfriend behavior. Like something that impressed the man.

Steph impressed him.

It made her blush, just thinking about it.

"There's no other woman that would do that for me. At least not so sincerely."

"You didn't even see me doing it," she pointed out. "So how do you know?"

"Because I know you." He said that with pure conviction. "And I know how you are. How you worry. But you don't need to worry, Steph. Honestly."

"I know."

"But you don't." Turning his head to the side, he stared hard at her for a moment before saying, "Stephanie, I'm not stupid."

She didn't say anything for a moment before saying, "Well, maybe I am, because I don't get-"

"I'm not..." And he laughed then, but it wasn't because he found any of what they were speaking of funny, shaking his head a bit as well before saying, "If I can't come back from this, then… I'm expecting it."

That got her to push up a bit, frowning over at him. "Paul-"

"It's okay," he told her, tone even. "Seriously. I… I want to come back, of course, and I hope that I do, but if I don't… It's alright. So don't worry about it. I mean… Mom's probably right."

"What are you talking about?"

Shrugging, he wouldn't look at her, not even in the darkness, as he said, "About how it's time, you know? To hang it all up. Before I… Before, you know, I seriously get hurt. And-"

"Is that really what you want?" Stephanie was concerned then and, shifting closer to him, she rested a hand on his arm. "Paul? Because… I mean, if it is that's fine, but-"

"Of course it's not," he told her with a frown. Glancing down then, at himself, he said, "But it's better to be, you know, realistic than-"

"Optimistic?" Stephanie didn't sound like she agreed. "That's stupid, Paul. It's not optimistic to think that you could come back from this. I think it's pessimistic to think otherwise. You're...you. You can do anything."

"I'm not a damn superhero, Steph." He wouldn't look at her still. Just down at his lap. "I can't do the impossible."

"But this isn't impossible. The doctor said-"

"Steph, the odds-"

"Paul, you told me before that all you wanted-"

"Yeah, well, that's why I didn't want to fucking talk about it."

"Why?"

Because the more he did with her, the more likely he was going to find himself spilling all of his true thoughts on the subject.

But he wouldn't answer her and, slowly, Steph shifted to lay against him, head resting on his chest.

"Paul," she said slowly as she ran a hand down his smooth chest, stopping at his navel, before running it back up once more. "If you honestly don't want to wrestle again, that's fine. I don't care. You have done a lot. For this company and others. You've...done it. You made it. And now if you're done with it, then good for you. It won't change anything between us. But… If you're not, then you should try, really try, and not give up at your rehab or getting back into shape after or… Because if anyone can do it, I know that you-"

"But what," he finally cut her off, her hand stilling over his abs, "if I can't?"

"What do you-"

"What if I fucking want it," he asked, tone finally hitting a rather rough pattern as he lost it, just a bit, "but I can't come back? Then what? Huh?"

"I-I don't-"

"Because that's what's mostly likely going to happen," he went on. "I'm going to want it, but I'm not going to be able to do it. I'm not going to be able to get back into shape or my quad will always bother me or it's just not going to work out. I'm going to be able to come back, but the company's going to have changed or the industry and who wants me anymore? Huh? Who?"

"Me."

That got him to finally take a breath, pushing it forcefully through his nose. "Stephanie-"

"If you can come back, Paul, there's always a place for you."

"How could you know that?"

"Uh, for one, you're only the greatest wrestler ever."

He wasn't in the mood for baseless compliments. "Shut up."

"And," she went on, "you're dating me. I mean, obviously-"

"And what if something happens? Huh? In this year away from one another?"

"It's not going to be a whole ye-"

"What if?"

"What could happen?"

"I don't know, Steph," he said shaking his head a bit. "We're gonna be away from one another. A lot. For the first time in our relationship. And-"

"And I'm going to come see you," she cut him off. "All the time. Whenever I get the chance. So-"

"Shit can still happen, Steph. I'm gonna be here and you're gonna be on the road and..."

"I'm not gonna...cheat on you, Paul." It wasn't a word, really, that either of them liked to bring up often, but it found its place in their conversation then as he only grimaced, still not look at her. "I won't."

"I know."

"Then...do you think that you-"

"Of course not."

But could so much conviction go behind something that he'd done before? Granted with her, not against her, but still.

That time, the silence wasn't as nice and Paul was the one that broke it.

"That wasn't what I meant," he insisted to his girlfriend. "Stephanie. I meant...that we might grow apart."

"Right. And cheat on one another."

"Stephanie-"

"I don't even get," she said over him, lifting her head to stare up at him, "why you feel like bringing this up. At all. You've said this entire time not to worry, that you weren't upset, that these things happen and that you would be back in the ring by-"

"Because it's damn depressing, Steph," he finally snapped at her, just a bit, aggression coming out in his pitch then. "Knowing that I'm gonna be holed up in this damn room for a year-"

"It won't be a ye-"

"Even a fucking month is gonna be torture," he told her. "Everyone I fucking know is going to be doing the one thing that I love and care about while I have to stay here and just watch them on a television. I'm at the top of my career and this happens? I mean, what the fuck is this? Huh? Karma? What horrible thing did I do that I deserve this? Bad luck? Finally? Is that it?"

"It's just something," she told him in as calm a voice as she could manage, "that happens. There's no-"

"That's fucking easy for you to say, Stephanie. You're getting to go out there every week. You're getting to do what I love. And why? Because you're Vince's damn daughter? I worked for this. I put my all into this and-"

"Do not," she warned then, though her voice was still rather soft, as she was mostly still upset about the whole 'maybe they wouldn't work through distance' thing, "belittle what I've done. I didn't just _get_ to be on TV. I put in my time. I spent every summer when I was a kid-"

"Damn it, Steph, I know that you worked behind the scenes forever," he huffed, knowing that insulting her would get him literally nowhere. "That's not what I meant. I-"

"You can't start falling into self-pity already," she interrupted. "You just can't, Paul. On Day One. That's, like, the last thing you can do. If you can't do this, if you want to go home and find a doctor there to heal you, fine. But if you're gonna make in here, then you're going to have to calm down. At least for tonight. Nothing's being decided tonight. Or even for another four months when you get the brace off! So just take a breath."

But he didn't want to. At all. He wanted to get upset and get irate. Then. Because she'd brought it out of him. Before he wanted nothing more than to bottle up all his feelings, but she just kept talking and pushing and now he wanted to spill everything.

Which is what Steph wanted him to do too. Just…in another way.

"Relax," she insisted again as, suddenly, the hand that had been so still before started its descent once more. As it slid right passed his navel and then slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers, she repeated, "You have to relax."

His breath caught, a bit, as he wasn't expecting this, and, though it was only an immediate alleviation to his concerns, it did get him to relax. Completely. And as he and Steph lazily made out afterwards, her having to lean up to meet him to do so, Paul finally felt some of that drowsiness overtake him.

"Did you want," he whispered lackadaisically as Steph slipped out of the bed and away from him, his body feeling much colder almost immediately, "me to do something for you too? Or-"

"No."

"I could-"

"I said no." And she was heading off to the bathroom, it seemed, adding over her shoulder as an afterthought, "Thanks though."

Which Paul probably should have felt a bit offended by. If he'd been the one to get her off, he'd have definitely gotten hot in the process and appreciated some return value in that.

But...then again, Steph was kind of pissy at him at the moment. Or something. Concerned, maybe. Probably a bit of both, actually.

Not to say he still wouldn't cash in, even should he be feeling that way, were the roles reversed, but he and Steph were different people.

Clearly.

"Here." When she came back, it was with a damp washcloth for him. "To..." She blushed. Even in the dark, he knew she blushed. "Clean off with."

He usually would have teased her a bit, about how worked up she could get over something so silly, but at the moment all he did was accept it as Stephanie fell into the bed with him once more.

The silence didn't feel any less tense, but was more permanent then as, softly, she whispered against her pillow something about love and he repeated the words as he tossed the washcloth onto the nightstand.

For a good three hours, they snoozed.

He woke her up though, while struggling with his crutches, when he inevitably had to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night. And even though they were...whatever they were at the moment, Steph still got out of bed to help him out some.

"Do you have to, like, sit to pee?"

"Steph-"

"It's just a question."

Apparently she wasn't so pissed that she couldn't spare to rib him a little.

When they got to bed once more, Paul was wincing a bit, but he told her it was just from some sore muscles, nothing to do with his quad, and even though Steph didn't believe him, she rubbed at his bicep closest to her, which is what he told her was tight.

"We have to get up in the morning," she yawned at one point, more resting against his arm than massaging it. "I'm sure that your parents are going to be back in here."

"They do love me."

"A lot."

"Only son and all."

"Oh, I know about that all too well."

"You're the baby, Steph," Paul pointed out. "That trumps only son."

"So you just lucked out then? Only son _and_ baby?"

"I ain't ever been a baby." He winked at her. "I was born all man."

"You're too much."

"Steph."

"Hmmm?"

And he turned his face down then, to stare right at her, as he said, "I was just being dumb before. About… I could spend a year away form you, completely and still stay, what was it you said? Honest? Because I'd know that you were doing the same. Promise."

Which was probably an inflation of the truth, at least a little, but she still nodded because Steph ate shit like that up, always, and when he leaned down to kiss her she was all for it.

That was as far as anything went though because, for real then, they were both dog tired, the day had been hell, and they'd need their sleep to get through the next.

It was at sunrise though, as Steph was rushing to put on something other than his t-shirt and panties (because it was one thing for his parents to know they were sharing a room; it was another for them to know that she wore _that_ to bed and all the implications that went with it) and Paul tackled once more sponge baths (he didn't like it, but they had no trash bags for his brace or a chair for him to shower in and...well… Steph said she'd give him one, when the imminent arrival of his parents wasn't hanging over their heads, so there was always that), that they actually spoke on the most important part of their late night conversation.

Because, seriously, cheating or whether they could do the distance thing would work itself out; nothing they could honestly do about that other than live it and deal with the consequences.

The other stuff though? That very much so could be talked through and figured out, at least a bit, in the light of morning.

"You feeling better?" Steph asked Paul as he sat on the edge of the tub in the bathroom, legs stretched out, completely nude, washing off with a cloth and bar of soap. "About...you know?"

She was in the bathroom too, at the sink, brushing her teeth in far more clothes than he was wearing. Which was a tad disappointing, but understandable.

Kind of.

"Yeah," he told her in a way that he thought made it clear that he really didn't want to discuss anything at all at the moment.

Either Steph was horrible at reading those sorts of things or she just didn't care, but she kept right up.

Like he was expecting, honestly.

Stephanie always got her answer.

Even if she had to drag it out of you.

"Are you sure?" She'd already spit out the toothpaste in her mouth and looked to be moving onto getting her hair all combed out. "I mean, if you want to talk about it-"

"There's nothing to talk about."

"Paul-"

"Stephanie-"

"You should want to talk to me," she told him. "I mean, what do you think we'll be discussing for the next however many months other than how you're feeling?"

As it would turn out (and how he was guessing then anyways), mostly any and all drama that she felt she had to deal with at work, home, with her friends, with her family, and even with him.

Which would be fine, as Paul was a rather good (pretend) listener and Steph was very good at blabbering on about herself.

Perfect match.

At the moment though, that was not the answer she was looking for.

At all.

"I don't know," he grumbled.

Also the wrong answer.

"You. We're going to talk about you. And what's going on with you."

Sometimes. Mostly her, but they didn't know that just yet (only he had inklings).

"What do you want me to say, Steph?" He was scrubbing at his armpits then, glaring over at her. He felt kind of silly, actually, and a bit like a big gorilla or something. "I'm not happy with this. You got me. You weaseled it out of me last night. I'm not fine. And I don't know when I'm going to be fine. Not until, at least, I know for sure if I'm going to be back with the company or not. I-"

"You're definitely," she said with a frown in the mirror over the sink at him, "going to be back in the company. No matter what. If you decide to get back in the ring or not, you'd still join some part of WWF."

"As what?"

"I don't know, Paul. A trainer or something. Anything. Triple H is WWF. What else would you do?"

He thought, honestly, for a moment before saying, "Start a chain of gyms. Go to bodybuilding meets constantly. Sit at home and do nothing."

"And you can do that. Any of that." She made a face. "Even the last one, I guess, if you… What would be your income? On the last one? Can you live off what you have saved away? Paul?"

"Uh, marrying a McMahon should be setting Hunter up for life, so-"

"Hunter, like I said, is a part of WWF. Once you leave WWF, I think you lose getting to claim that."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"Well, obviously my loaded girlfriend will set me up nicely," he finished. "Because as she just said, Paul could leave WWF and she'd still be his."

"I didn't say that. Did I?"

"Pretty sure you did, babe."

"Well, I guess I'm stuck then."

"Mmmhmm."

"But," she added, still running a brush through her hair as he continued to wash off, "I still believe, Paul, that if you want to come back...then you will. You just will. And if you don't, then you don't, but I know you and you're gonna want to at least try. And you'll do it. So...let's not even talk about what will happen if you don't. Anymore. Deal?"

Running the cloth over his face then, he said through it, "Deal."

It wasn't, of course, as they'd have that conversation for many months to come. Whenever he was feeling down on himself and she was actually able to work his feelings out of him (he had quite the bravado built up around himself typically), those things came up. Those insecurities about his injury and ability to overcome it. If even overcoming it was the worst of his troubles because, as everyone knew, the market was always changing, constantly. How would the fans react to his return? How would the others in the locker room? And what about all the people that had come in during his absence (a lot, actually, with the collapse of other well known wrestling organizations)? How would they take to him getting a push (if he got one; he knew he would, but still, if) all because, he was sure they'd say, he was fucking Vince's daughter?

What then?

As time was added on and they got closer to him taking off his brace and moving on to actual rehabilitation, a lot of other problems began to sprout their heads.

What if he couldn't get back in shape?

What if he got too big?

Got too tiny?

What if the quad injury ruined the look of his legs?

What then, Steph?

What then?

But she'd have months to figure that all out as, standing there that day, in the bathroom, brushing her hair as he was behind her, washing off, all she had to do was smile over at him and wait for it to be returned.

For the moment, they had a deal.

Even if it wouldn't last, at the moment it was all that mattered.

And when his parents would knock at the hotel room door an hour later, it would be to both of them dressed and ready to contend with them. They'd be going back home, the next day, and givne that they no doubt wanted some alone time with their son, Steph talked herself out of eating breakfast with them up in the room, despite their protests, claiming that she had some business stuff to take care of and would see them later.

After a quick breakfast alone down in the lobby, she went to find a payphone and give an update to the one person that probably cared as much as her.

Given, of course, it wasn't for the same reasons, but still.

"So?" Vince prompted, sounding far too chipper for a normal person at eight in the morning (but Vince wasn't a normal person). "How's his quad holding up?"

"Well, it's been, like, less than twenty-four hours since his surgery, you know."

"I know."

"And if he had, like, had some sort of complication in the night, I would have lead off with that, so-"

"I hear a lot of stalling, Stephanie."

"He's fine, Daddy, of course," she said with a roll of her eyes as she leaned against the wall beside the pay phone. "Just a little..."

"A little…?"

"Well...you know."

"If I knew, I would be the one down there-"

"Which you could have been."

"-instead of sending my very capable daughter."

"You didn't send me anywhere," she griped with a frown. "I came because Paul's my boyfriend and I love-"

"Hey, hey, hey, none of that." Vince sounded legitimate disgusted. "Especially not over breakfast."

Rolling her eyes, Steph finally just told him, "Paul's feeling all depressed or whatever."

"Depressed, huh?"

"Of course. It's finally sinking in now, I think," she explained. "That, you know, he's not… That it's gonna be awhile until he can get back in the ring. It's real now."

"And it wasn't real when he was limping out of the ring?"

"He finished your damn match, Vince. What more did you want?"

The man laughed, over the phone, as Steph only blushed at her outburst.

"Hit a nerve, sweetheart?"

"Would you just-"

"Tell Hunter to keep his head up," Vince told her decisively then. "That the company won't wait for him, but it'll definitely still be around when he gets back."

Taking a breath, she whispered, "Of course, Dad."

"And Steph?"

"Mmmm?"

"Your ass better be at that meeting in two days and not hiding out in his hotel room. Because-"

"I gotta go, Daddy. I'm out of quarters."

"Steph-"

With a big breath after getting the payphone back on its hook, Steph tried hard not to focus on the fact that she was about to have to leave her boyfriend and more on the fact that she was getting the entire rest of the day to care for him.

It was something to be happy about. Really. He needed her and she was going to be there.

Perfect.

Until, you know, he would need her and she wouldn't be, but…

Why think about that?

When she got back to the Levesques, Paul seemed pretty glad to see her. He had a great relationship with his parents, yes, of course, but still, with him in his current condition, they could be a bit much.

So could she, but a good kind of much. The kind that annoyed him to no end, but he could put up with because, you know, he was banging that.

Oh, and he loved her or whatever.

"Vince said to tell you," Stephanie said as she joined Paul on the edge of the bed, while his parents were seated on the couch, "that he can't wait to have you back and he's praying for you."

"Steph, lying's a sin." The man shook his head at his parents. "McMahons are the worst at it. In that they do it a lot. Not that they can't spin a good one, because-"

"Shut up," Steph grumbled, giving him an elbow. "And he basically said that, so-"

"What'd he really say?" Paul was grinning at her and his parents were staring then because he was making sch a big deal out of it, so Steph only shrugged some.

"Just that...you know. That he was glad you were okay and that you'd have a spot when you got back."

"If he comes back," his mother corrected and Paul made a face, but Steph only nodded, because that was true.

And plus she'd basically agree with anything his parents said because she was in a constant battle to impress them that she didn't realize she was fighting alone.

"If," she corrected.

"And?" Paul prompted because he was annoying.

To embarrass him some then, she said making a face up at him, "Just not to forget that I have a meeting and hang around here instead with you."

Steph giggled, as she said it, but Paul only made a face and looked away, his arms folding over his chest and pushing the too tight sleeves of his shirt to their limit as his biceps flexed.

"Yeah, well," he grumbled. "One of us has to work."

Paul's father took this seriously and nodded at the two of them. "That's always true."

Which was also their parting advice, that next day, to Stephanie. That she didn't have to worry about Paul; they'd be sure that he was taken care of. It felt odd to Steph that they'd say that to her, but Paul only snickered when she mentioned it.

"You cried over me." And that time it was in a teasing tone. "They think that you're, like, so in love with me that you'd give up everything to nurse me back to health."

And she would have too, had he needed it. But he didn't. And he wouldn't want her to do that anyways.

So, when it was finally time for her to head out, they spent a very lazy morning in bed before she prepped to leave.

"Call me," he ordered against her lips as they kissed goodbye, him leaning up against his crutches and her at the hotel room door, bag on one shoulder, ready to depart.

"Constantly," she warned right back. Blue eyes staring into his hazel, she whispered at the end, "Deal?"

And with one that they could actually accomplish and both planned to, there was nothing he could say back to that other than, "Deal."


End file.
